


They Call Me the Dread Wolf

by nerdyholler (katznhund)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Ithlen Lavellan Mahariel, Post-Trespasser, Warden Inquisitor, relationship status is 'its complicated', spoilers for behind the scenes DA4 trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katznhund/pseuds/nerdyholler
Summary: "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?" A brief discussion in the Fade about names and titles between two people at war but not out of love with one another.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 11





	They Call Me the Dread Wolf

“They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?”

Ithlen can feel Solas’s presence behind her. They’re alone, as always. This time he finds her in the Brecilian Forest, standing in front of the cave where she and Tamlen found the mirror years ago. Her life changed that day and it put her on a path there was no turning back from. If they hadn’t gone in, she’d be in the Free Marches with the rest of the clan. She’d be living a simple life planned out and structured for her, married to Tamlen, raising children, hunting for food, protecting the clan. The only future she ever saw for herself growing up.

Instead she was talking to a long lost god in her dreams.

The question hangs in the air as Solas waits for her answer. “Ithlen,” she says finally, eyes fixed on the black nothing of the cave entrance in front of her.

“I wish that could be the case, vhenan, but we both know it won’t be.” She hears him circling around to her side, still keeping his distance, but doesn’t look. “Do you remember entering the Winter Palace?”

Of course she did. _Lady Inquisitor Ithlen Lavellan Mahariel, acting Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden Commander of Ferelden, veteran of the fifth blight and Hero of Ferelden, vanquisher of the rebel mages, crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground, Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself._

“You may have disbanded the Inquisition and left the Grey Wardens,” he continues, “but the rest is still true. Our actions don’t disappear just because the positions that forced us to make those choices do.”

“Well, we can’t all be simple man servants at the palace, can we?” She isn’t in the mood for a lecture or philosophical discussion tonight. “I’m done with wearing titles. My choices are my own, others can say what they want.”

“A noble but dangerous stance. If we do not choose who we are, who others see, we risk losing ourselves to their expectations. They called me the Dread Wolf long before I called myself that. Now I cannot escape it, it is who I am.” Solas moves closer and stops, inches away from her, “So I ask again, what will they call you when this is over?”

Ithlen stares straight ahead, waiting for an answer to emerge from the cave, but there is none. 

“Tired,” she says eventually, “They will call me tired, and if I’m lucky, they won’t also say that I am broken. Beyond that, I don’t know and I don’t care. There will be as many opinions as there are people in Thedas. Regardless of what happens, I’ll be a hero to some and villain to others, just as it’s always been.” She pauses, then sighs, “And I will make do after with whatever I have left of myself.”

Finally, Ithlen allows herself to look at him. He looks like he always does, simple robes, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with genuine curiosity. “And when this is all done, what will they call you?”

She watches him inhale deeply, face carefully blank as he considers her question and the implications. “I…” he hesitates, “I do not think I can stop being the Dread Wolf. It’s been too long.”

“Are you sure? Couldn’t you put it aside and be Solas instead?”

“It would be a lovely dream to do so, but I don’t know that the final meeting of our paths will allow it.”

There’s truth in what he says. “Then perhaps, next time you find me, find me in that dream instead of this one.”

A rare smile plays on Solas’s lips, “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

They look at each other in silence, neither moving or speaking. There’s still a strange comfort in being together. They shouldn’t do this. These moments shouldn’t be possible. Here in the Fade there’s a truce, unspoken, but acknowledged by both. In the real world, they move forward towards a final confrontation that will likely be the end for one, if not both, of them. But here, for the briefest of moments they allow themselves to pretend they’ll find another way and avoid the battle that’s coming. It’s a small hope, one that somehow persists. The single flower blooming in the desert.

Ithlen feels the forest begin to shift around her. “Is it time?”

Solas nods then reaches out, cupping her face in his hand. “Please, vhenan, consider what I’ve said. I don’t want you to lose yourself as I have.”

“I could ask the same of you.” She leans into the touch, placing her hand over his, “It’s rare that we’re truly ever without choice.” Around Ithlen the shapes and colors of the forest begin to blur. She takes a step back, breaking the spell between them. “Until we meet again, vhenan.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turns and walks into the cave.

Rolling over, Ithlen becomes aware of the hard ground beneath her and the smell of a fire burned low. Birdsong is beginning to fill the woods around the campsite. Just as she’s about to open her eyes, words ghost through her mind, “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”


End file.
